Things I have learned in the past few weeks, while trying to do some proper work on The Crappy Novel That Dare Not Speak Its Name:

1. I have no self-discipline. Leave me alone in the house with a laptop and within 20 minutes I’ll probably be watching re-runs of The Thick of It.
2. I am incapable of NOT simply ripping off the style of book I am reading when it comes to writing my own. For this reason, biographies or books I don’t mind ripping off are the only sort I can stomach right now. Should TCNTDNSIN bear a passing resemblance to the life and times of Patricia Highsmith, who am I to judge…
3. I have spent more time mentally imagining myself mosying around the house in the bathrobe as a full time writer, following my incredible success (fuck off, I only tell you these things because I have no shame) than actually writing to make said success possible. By, shall we say a fair margin.